


Desperate For Rain

by Zilchtastic



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dream Sex, F/M, Masturbation, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Smut, Solas Smut, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-17 03:10:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11266707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zilchtastic/pseuds/Zilchtastic
Summary: Soon. Someday soon. Avrinne clings to that hope like it’s a lifeline. She feels like a flower deprived of sunlight, desperate for rain. She’s never felt a need like this before in her life, and she wonders if one can die from too much longing.





	Desperate For Rain

**Author's Note:**

> My first actual Sollavellan smut! Originally posted on my writing Tumblr; follow me there for new fics, previews, updates, way too many screenshots, ramblings, and occasional prompt fills! https://zilchtastic-lavellan.tumblr.com/

“We shouldn’t,” he whispers, breath hot against her ear. “It isn’t right.”

“You say that every time,” Avrinne breathes back, fingers tightening on Solas’ surprisingly broad shoulders. Her eyes have slipped closed, and she lets her head fall back, gasping as the head of his cock slides between the folds of her cunt, teasing, tantalizing, not enough, never enough.

Solas growls, lips and then teeth brushing her throat. “I shouldn’t,” he says, but his hips are picking up the pace as he rubs himself against the velvet heat of her. “I know I shouldn’t…”

“You should,” Avrinne says, wrapping her legs around his hips, trying to draw him closer. She’s breathing fast, hot all over, shaking with need. “Please, Solas…”

“Do not ask me,” Solas snarls, teeth digging in hard enough to hurt. When he lets go, he soothes his tongue against the mark his teeth have surely left on her pale skin. “Do not ask me, or I will.” He chokes out those last words, and Avrinne can hear the tension in his voice, the almost-plea: _Do not ask me, or I will lose control_.

“Please,” she whispers again. “Solas, please, I need you, fuck me…”

The sound he makes then is almost angry. His hands grasp her hips hard enough to bruise, and then he’s finally at her entrance, finally pushing his cock inside, finally taking her, rough and desperate, filling her without mercy. Avrinne cries out, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, clinging as he fucks into her in an almost brutal rhythm, fast and hard. She whispers praise against his ear, encouragement, sweet nonsense in broken Elvish, and he moans.

The words he murmurs back are lovely, liquid-smooth, and barely decipherable. He knows more of the language than any other elf she’s ever met, and she can hardly understand most of what he says, but her heart sings bright when he calls her _vhenan_. His hips snap harder against her, cock sinking deep, and he snarls something against her ear; she knows it’s something filthy, something wicked, something Solas would never, ever say outside a dream. The realization shatters something, and the world around them seems to fall to tatters. Avrinne clings harder, all need and want and heat and lust, but the dream is fading away even as she draws so deliciously close to her peak. _Just one more thrust, just one more, please, let me come, let me come…!_

She awakens with a gasp. She’s in her own bed, alone as always, breathing fast and shaking hard. The desperate swell of her need has her slipping her hand beneath the sheets; she slides two fingers immediately into her wet cunt, thrusting them hard, back arching off the bed as she whimpers, hips moving as she chases down the orgasm she so badly craves. She remembers Solas’ voice at her ear, the low, sweet murmur of his words just before the dream ended: _“Sing for me, let me hear you as you come undone for me, vhenan….”_

She sings for him now, her cries lifting to the rafters as her cunt tightens rhythmically around her thrusting fingers. The feeling is good, so good, achingly sweet and yet bitterly bereft without her lover to share it. Avrinne bites her own lip and longs for Solas even as she shudders through her climax.

She falls back against the bedsheets, still shaking, panting, needing. There’s an ache between her legs, a longing to be filled, and an ache in her heart that has tears pricking the corners of her eyes. _Solas_ , she thinks. _If only you would… If only you could…_

She rolls out of bed, feeling her face go red. She’ll get dressed, she’ll go downstairs, and there he will be, face politely neutral, tone even and calm, as if he hadn’t been slamming his cock into her and snarling filthy promises into her ear just moments before. But she’ll see it in his eyes, in the intense way he looks at her, wolfish and hungry behind his mask of control. She won’t mention the dream, but she’ll know that he knows. That he wants her. That his iron will is slipping. That one day, maybe soon, she’ll whisper “Please,” and he won’t tell her ‘no’. He’ll follow her to her chambers, and he’ll pin her to the bed, and he’ll fuck her like a dream, but it won’t be a dream, not anymore. He’ll take her, and she’ll scream for him, and he’ll feel her cunt tighten around him as she comes, and he’ll thrust deep, gasping her name as he spends himself inside her.

Soon. Someday soon. Avrinne clings to that hope like it’s a lifeline. She feels like a flower deprived of sunlight, desperate for rain. She’s never felt a need like this before in her life, and she wonders if one can die from too much longing. _Soon_ , she thinks. _Please, Solas. Soon._


End file.
